


slow and steady

by peskylilcritter



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Humor, Mutual Pining, Other, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 07:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peskylilcritter/pseuds/peskylilcritter
Summary: After the world doesn't end, Crowley and Aziraphale mostly spend their lives just relaxing and enjoying each other's company.





	slow and steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonHoardsBooks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonHoardsBooks/gifts).

> this is kinda sorta based on a prompt dragonhoardsbookz sent me on tumblr but like, i was already gonna write some snek!crowley.
> 
> still. dragonhoardsbookz, i love you and i always enjoy our conversations and your prompts!

The terrarium is mostly for show.

At least that’s what Aziraphale tells Crowley. Crowley squints at him suspiciously but, well.

The plants in there are very nice and very green, the little hollow rock looks like an excellent hiding place and it’s just the right sort of warm. It’s bloody nice, is what it is.

Suspicion or not, Crowley has to go take a closer look. Crawl to take a closer look. Look, does it really matter how he gets there?

Aziraphale waits until he’s properly explored the whole thing and settled in for a nap before he puts the lid on “Merely for appearance’s sake, my dear,” and leaves Crowley to open the shop.

*

However nice (and convenient, when things get boring or awful) sleep is, waking up is always a bit disorienting. Waking up as a snake is worse, even when Crowley went to sleep as a snake.

After a few long minutes of uncoiling himself out of the little hollow rock Crowley attempts to get out to resume human shape and maybe consume some stolen bits of food off Aziraphale’s plate, as has recently been his custom after naps.

The lid of the tank refuses to shift.

Crowley glares up at it and tries again, insistently certain that it must shift. It stays, utterly unimpressed.

Oh for- “Aziraphale!” he shouts, ignoring the need for vocal chords and such because this is no time to adhere to physics or biology or human rules.

The bookshop is silent. Through the glass of his little prison, Crowley can see that this corner of the shop is empty but he can’t see the door to check whether the sign is turned to open or closed.

He shouts again, gets the same silence back, and resolves to sulk until the angel gets back from whatever ridiculous little errand caused him to leave Crowley trapped in a blessed terrarium.

*

Aziraphale checks on Crowley immediately when he gets home. (Well. He stores the books properly on his way to the terrarium but surely that’s alright.)

He looks to be settled for a second week of napping, which Aziraphale, of course, considers excessive but then, they’ve had a very stressful decade.

He leaves him to it.

*

The next time Crowley wakes there’s a child’s face pressed against the glass of the tank. He lifts his head and hisses, fangs bared, and the child shrieks and runs off.

Somewhere out of sight people are talking, voices raised. Crowley can’t hear properly through the damn glass but he can make out enough that Aziraphale is trying to pacify the child’s mother.

Good. He had better let Crowley out now.

Eventually the arguing stops and then Aziraphale is standing in front of the terrarium, looking mildly disapproving. “Really, dear, was that necessary?”

“Yesss.” Crowley uncoils a little more, raises his head toward the lid of the tank. “Now let me out.”

Aziraphale sighs but lifts the lid and offers Crowley his arm to climb out. A moment later Crowley is back on his own two feet, straightening his jacket.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley gives him a breezy grin, running one hand through his hair to make sure it’s just right. “Of course, angel. Now, how about some lunch?”

He gets a beaming smile in return, and a wave of Aziraphale’s hand turns the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. “Have you got somewhere in mind?”

Crowley shrugs, wandering toward the door while Aziraphale gets his coat. “You’re the one with the encyclopaedic knowledge of good restaurants around the world.” He opens the door and bows Aziraphale out with only a hint of mockery. “Just tell me where to go.”

*

When he gets home later that evening he goes to check on his plants immediately.

A few of them are drooping somewhat but for once he can’t actually blame them. Next time he has a nap he’ll have to be sure to tell Aziraphale to water them every now and then.

Still. He glares at them, turning in a slow circle so every single one can appreciate the full extent of his disappointment. “I realize I was gone for two weeks but really, that’s no excuse. I’ll let it go, just this once but if there’s a repeat...” He lets his voice trail off and intensifies the glare. The plants rustle at the threat.

By morning they’ve all returned to their usual lustre. Crowley checks on them again before he leaves, and doesn’t let them see his satisfaction.

*

Winter is never any fun, but Aziraphale’s bookshop is always nice and warm, and the terrarium is honestly the most comfortable place in the world, Crowley discovers during the most icy weeks of January.

He sleeps a lot because he’s feeling lethargic and comfortable, and it makes time pass faster. The sooner the winter is over the better.

On an unexpectedly sunny morning midway through January Aziraphale leaves the shop to check on Crowley’s plants and run a few errands, and Crowley gets bored.

It occurs to him that he’s never explored the bookshop in this form, and really, snakes can get into such fascinating little places totally inaccessible to anyone human-shaped. (Inaccessible, that is, without cheating. Crowley approves of cheating, generally, but crossing the distance between one bookshelf and another on legs that are no longer than the average index finger on an average sized human is- Well, he’d rather not repeat the experience.)

Over the course of the morning he finds several very interesting things he’ll be sure to tease Aziraphale over later, a few very neat little hiding spots, and a space behind the books on one of the tallest shelves where next door’s heating pipes evidently run through the wall. It’s marvellously comfortable.

It’s so comfortable, in fact, that he doesn’t even notice he’s fallen asleep until the frantic note in Aziraphale’s voice reaches panic levels.

He never even thinks about it, just shoots out of his hiding place, fangs bared and already hissing at whatever threat has made his angel that scared.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaims with relief, and then the world gets a bit disorienting for a moment. “Oh dear, I was so worried.”

He’s cradling Crowley to his chest which explains the disorientation. Sudden loss of contact with the ground tends to do that.

Crowley shifts to wrap himself around Aziraphale’s arm and lifts his head to look at him. “I was just sleeping, what’s there to worry about?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks go pink. “Oh, I just- I mean, the terrarium was empty when I came back and I couldn’t find you and there was no note so I thought...” He trails off, apparently realizing how ridiculous it is to worry about the safety of a demon in the shape of a very large black snake and the ability to change shapes at will.

“I found the heating pipes behind one of the bookshelves,” Crowley says, ignoring this. At least in this shape Aziraphale can’t see him flush to match him. Scales are very useful that way. “Fell asleep behind the new Shakespeares.” (New, in this case, means ‘published over fifty years after the author’s death’.)

“Ah,” Aziraphale says, and falls silent. His cheeks are still bright pink; Crowley can feel the heat of them.

Possibly more than ten minutes go by in which Crowley stares at Aziraphale and Aziraphale avoids meeting his eyes.

Then the little bell over the shop door rings and Aziraphale turns to greet his customer.

Crowley turns to look too and is greeted with a look absolute terror, a shriek, and then the little bell rings again as the woman rushes right back out.

“I think I see the point of the terrarium now,” Crowley says thoughtfully.


End file.
